Rage and Mortification
by compartmentalize
Summary: "I'm sorry, Mr. Schue, but I'm calling bullshit." The voice was unmistakable. Smooth and rich, wafting from the back row. Normally gentle- bashful, even- but at that moment it came crashing down sharply on the ears of the New Directions. All heads whipped around in shock to ogle the least likely among them to throw a tantrum.


"The road to Nationals will have bumps along the way… We're up against the real deal this time, and I need your focus. The only way we'll make it is if we unite as a team! I know there's some difficult history between some of you, some love dodecahedrons. It can be painful. For everyone."

The Spanish teacher looked meaningfully around his all-too incestuous club. He received blank stares and in return. Ryder appeared to be drooling. With a sigh, he plowed on.

"But Glee Club is worth that pain, now more than ever… And you know I've got your back."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Schue, but I'm calling bullshit."

The voice was unmistakable. Smooth and rich, wafting from the back row. Normally gentle- bashful, even- but at that moment it came crashing down sharply on the ears of the New Directions. All heads whipped around in shock to ogle the least likely among them to throw a tantrum. Even Kitty had exchanged her bored scowl for a jaw drop.

"Blaine," Sam whispered urgently, tugging on his best friend's sleeve, "don't-"

"Get OFF me, Sam!"

Blaine jerked his arm away and rose from his chair. He strode down the risers to stand but a foot away from Will, fixing him with an accusatory glare. The gold in his eyes was alight with a fury that none of the New Directions had ever seen.

"You tell us you've 'been there,' you pretend that you 'get it'- you haven't noticed that we're more cohesive than ever! The real 'pain' is the rampant bullying at this school, which you haven't lifted a finger to stop!"

Unsure as to whether he should be on the offensive or defensive, Will made a motion to cut into Blaine's tirade. This only seemed to enrage the boy further, and he plowed on, gesturing wildly at the risers behind him.

"Know why Artie isn't wearing his glasses? They broke on the way to Glee Club after some meathead pushed his wheelchair into a locker. Guess why Tina's wearing her gym clothes? She was slushied for daring to hand out flyers for the spring musical."

Will's eyes darted to the students in question, noting the missing glasses and standard issue gym shorts and tee for the first time. How had he not noticed?

"You know what?" snorting in derision, Blaine threw up his hands and stormed passed Will to the door. He turned upon reaching it.

"Oh, and your pep talks suck almost as much as your Spanish. 'The road will have bumps along the way'? I could've gotten that from a goddamn fortune cookie. Would it kill you to TEACH for once?"

With a loafer-clad foot Blaine kicked the door open and strutted out of the choir room. Sam rose to follow him- whether in concern or solidarity, Will did not want to find out.

"Sit!"

Sam sat. After a beat of silence, Will restarted his pep talk as best he could. Saving face in front of his Glee Club was his first priority. He'd deal with Anderson later.

* * *

Will put down his pen. He'd long since given up on grading the subjunctive tense exams strewn across his desk. Every attempt to refocus had inevitably resulted in those insolent, self-satisfied words echoing in his ears. He hated himself for letting Blaine's outburst affect him so, especially because he'd seen it coming. He'd seen it in the pouts, in the put-upon sighs that Blaine let out when he felt that his clubmates' antics were beneath him. Will had known that this day would come- the day when that privileged former frontman would become unsatisfied with swaying in the background. No matter how you spun it, a transfer from Dalton Academy to McKinley was a fall from grace. With Kurt out of the picture, Blaine's growing petulance couldn't be kept dormant for long. Will had anticipated the boy's approaching snapping point, but had presumed it would take the form of another transfer. He'd had no reason to suspect a hissy fit.

Usually so elegant in his manner, so eloquent in his speech, the former Warbler's biting words had stung Will more deeply than he'd ever care to admit. After his initial fury at the boy's insolence, niggling doubts about Will's character had come rushing to the surface. Maybe, just maybe, Blaine had had a point. Perhaps a recalibration of his roles as teacher, coach and friend to these students was in- no. That boy was out of line. He needed to be put in his place, right now.

Knowing for a fact that Blaine had stayed after school to attend a student council meeting, Will picked up his desk phone and dialed the office.

"Yes, this is Will Schuester. I need Senior Blaine Anderson paged to my office. Thank you."

* * *

Three quiet knocks sounded at the door. Upon Will's answer, Blaine shuffled in. His olive complexion was paled, his expression distressed. Good.

"Sir, I... I apologize for my outburst today in Glee Club. It wasn't my place to-"

"You don't think you're going to silvertongue your way out of this, do you?"

Will regarded the dapper young man. He was the picture of remorse. There was sincerity in the set of his thick brow, abashedness in the soft set of his jaw. Guilt seemed to shine from his already luminous eyes. If Will hadn't seen it all before, he might have been moved.

"E-excuse me, sir?"

"What was the standard method of discipline at Dalton?"

Blaine's eyes widened in response, but he kept his gaze trained somewhere around Will's knee. His mouth twitched nervously, but remained closed. Without a watchful audience, Blaine wasn't nearly as vocal or theatrical as he'd been yesterday afternoon. A performer, through and through.

"Blaine?"

"I'm really sorry, sir- it'll never happen again, I promise-"

"I asked you a question."

Will watched his student squirm in the silent office, steeling himself to speak. Will's curiosity was piqued. Finally, very quietly, Blaine murmured "Ten strikes to the wrist... More, if warranted."

Will swallowed hard. He hadn't seen that one coming. Will had done some light research on Dalton before the New Directions had competed against the Warblers for the first time. Everything about the place screamed elitism, old money- and tradition. Apparently he'd underestimated just _how_ traditional they were. Well, If Blaine was accustomed to… _that_ form of punishment, Will would have to adapt. It might be the only way way to ensure that he'd be taken seriously by the haughty teenager. Before he lost his nerve, Will opened his desk drawer and took out a ruler.

"I th-thought," Blaine stammered, shuffling his feet, "that there was a policy against cor…corporal punishment at McKinley."

Will smiled grimly. Nice try.

"With Sue Sylvester at the helm, do you really think that sort of thing is regulated or enforced?"

Out of excuses, Blaine lifted his eyes to Will's imploringly.

Having always admired the expressiveness of Blaine's eyes from a distance, Will couldn't help but falter as they were turned on him full-force for the second time that day. Their warm golden color gave the boy an earnestness that softened the confidence he exudes. Now, widened in supplication, they made him appear as innocent as a lamb. Will faltered.

Then Blaine's words rang in his ears. _Would it kill you to TEACH for once?_ His grip tightened on the ruler. Teach he would.

Will broke eye contact and focused on Blaine's outstretched hand. It was trembling. At the first strike, Blaine jerked and closed his eyes. On the second, he visibly tensed and bit his lip. Will could tell that his student was trying to reign in his flinch response, but by the fourth blow, his whole body was shaking with the effort. The fifth pulled a sharp intake of breath from the boy, the sixth a rattling gasp. On the seventh, Blaine's eyes opened. Though downcast, Will saw that they were filled with tears. A whimper escaped Blaine's lips as he was struck for the eighth time. Badly muffled sobs wracked Blaine's compact frame as Will administered the last of his punishment.

As soon as the tenth strike landed, Blaine retracted his reddened, welted hand and cradled it in his other. As Will regarded his student with stern satisfaction, he noticed that both of Blaine's arms were curled protectively around his middle, and that the boy was slowly turning away.

"And where do you thing you're g- oh!"

Inadvertently, Blaine's sideways stance had made the bulge in the front of his tight, _tight_ pants visible to his teacher. And for the life of him, Will couldn't tear his eyes away.

"Mr. Schue, I…"

The boy's face was and streaked with tears. New droplets clung to long, dark lashes as Blaine squeezed his eyes shut again. His olive skin was tinged a deep red in his cheeks and ears. Blaine's full lips, further swollen and bruised from biting, were trembling. He was rather beautiful in his mortification, Will found himself thinking. Weakened, vulnerable, in pain… How poetically ironic that, at the moment Blaine yearned for control, his body had betrayed him.

"Blaine…"

Will reached out a comforting hand to Blaine's shoulder, but it landed somewhere between his flushed neck and polo-clad chest. Will barely had time to register how soft and warm the boy's skin felt, how firm the muscles, before Blaine pulled away as if burned. With another tortured sob, he turned on his heel and fled the room.


End file.
